


On Stoic Gusts of Northern Wind

by ClockworkCourier



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Camping, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Hospitals, M/M, Michigan, Multi, Rating May Change, Road Trips, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkCourier/pseuds/ClockworkCourier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren's college life is kind of stressful, and he can admit that, but his idea of a vacation isn't exactly a road trip to one of the coldest places in the continental United States during winter break. It also doesn't include terrifying truck stop bathrooms at ungodly hours in the night, an unreasonable fear of mythical forest creatures, impromptu (but necessary) introductions to ice fishing, drunk quarterbacks, rogue snowmobiles that somehow gained sentience, and the biggest snowstorm to hit the area in fifty years. In retrospect, he really should have suggested a warmer location when he had the chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this warrants the strangest explanation I've ever had to give for a fic. I literally had a dream where someone called me and told me I had to write an SNK AU that takes place in Michigan. When I woke up, I told a few people about it, like haha ah yes how funny and weird, but then some people were like WRITE IT. And voila, I did. I don't know why, and I don't know how something I called 'Shingeki no Michigan' got as far as actually becoming a planned-out fic, but it did. 
> 
> Having grown up not too far away from Ann Arbor, I kind of incorporated as much as I know about the city and University of Michigan into this. Expect some GO BLUE kind of pride, because heck yes. That, and the idea of Eren and Armin wearing hospital scrubs is ridiculously cute to me. I think I had way more enjoyment in writing this than I thought I would have.
> 
> Last thing is that there are some Michiganisms in this. For the most part, it's not hard to figure out, but I'll put some handy little cultural notes at the bottom. :D 
> 
> (P.S. There's some vomit reference stuff in this chapter. Nothing bad, but people with emetophobia might want to skip the whole hospital part!)
> 
> Enjoy!

Eren Jaeger considered himself a grateful person. Really, he did have it remarkably well for someone with his circumstances. He thanked people outright for even those tiny gestures of kindness, like holding a door open for him, or even if they held the door open for his friends and let it close on him. He figured he was nice _enough_ , so it was confusing to him why he, as such a grateful, thankful person, was cursed to run late in the frigid late-fall rain of a typical Michigan afternoon, as well as having to navigate the labyrinth that was the city of Ann Arbor.

Overall, he hadn’t been having a good day. Dark, rain-soaked clouds had threatened his morning, and one of his classes ran later than normal, and when he finally managed to get lunch, the panini maker evidently broke under the duress of what was _obviously_ a burdensome tomato and mozzarella panini. _His_ tomato and mozzarella panini, to be exact, so he had to wait a little longer to get a replacement bread bowl, as well as deal with the barrage of apologies from a very nice cashier. Trying to get on the good side of karma, he thanked her, said it wasn’t her fault, and said he didn’t have to be anywhere so he could afford to wait.

Actually, he couldn’t. He was half-jogging down the street, scrubs already soaked around the ankle, his hoodie damp from the rain, and a stitch forming in his side from eating and running immediately after.

It was only natural for him to be in the middle of a self-deprecating mental mantra of how stupid he was that his phone had to go off. He paused just long enough to fish it out of the front pocket of his hoodie, relieved to see it was Armin rather than the unit supervisor.

“Yeah?” he answered by means of a greeting, frowning when he could feel the wet imprint he was leaving on his phone screen.

“You’re late,” Armin sing-songed. Eren could just picture him, doing that half-spin in the desk chair at the nurse’s station, smiling and warm and _dry_ because Armin actually had a car, the lucky bastard.

Eren sighed, and would have pinched the bridge of his nose. “I _know_. The panini maker at Panera broke and it’s raining except I think this is _sleet_ and...” He tapered off, his voice getting disturbingly close to a whine, “Armin, I’m not having a good day.”

And Armin, the traitor, laughed despite himself. “Yeah, sounds like it.”

“Did you call to laugh at me or was there a legitimate purpose to this?”

There was a sigh to finish off the laughter. “ _Yeeessss_. I’m not that awful, Eren,” Armin replied, although Eren could still hear the smile in his voice. “I called to tell you that Reiner asked us to go to the bar with them tonight.”

Eren raised an eyebrow, despite Armin not being able to see it. “He couldn’t just call me?”

“He said he couldn’t get a hold of you, so I said I’d tell you instead.”

“Thank you for your saintlike nature,” Eren replied dryly, taking the opportunity to duck under the awning of a store.

“I know. Jean said that Marco and I are totally up for saintdom at the Vatican. Anyway, are you up for it? I’d rather text him back now before I have to go to the glorious no-service zone.”

“Did he say what time?”

There was a thoughtful silence, presumably caused by Armin pausing in his spin to lean back in the chair and check the computer clock. “He said around seven, so we should be off work by then, right?”

That would been doing a mad dash to Armin’s car in the rain to fight traffic to get _out_ of the car and make a mad dash to the bar in a parking lot that was notoriously pocked in potholes.

“Yep,” Eren replied, even though he was sure he would have to tell Mikasa how much he loved her regardless of how she would bust into his room without knocking, or leave coffee cups on the _edge_ of the sink instead of _in_ the sink. Regardless, he could look past all of this to bequeath his last will and testament because he was sure he would die of hypothermia in the night.

“Jean’s going,” Armin suddenly added as a conveniently-timed afterthought.

That jammed the brakes on Eren’s thought process. “I’m not going,” he said icily, glaring proverbial daggers in the general direction of the engineering school, where Jean was probably contently writing out notes and generally being the douchebag that Eren had built him up to be.

On cue, Armin sighed. “And so are all of our friends, Eren. He’s not going to be the only one.”

“No. He wants to take all of their maidenly virtue like the demon he is.”

Another pause, and then a snort. “That’s suggesting any of us are virgins,” Armin said quietly, probably to keep his voice down near the older nurses.

“I think Bert is.”

“More than likely,” Armin agreed. Then he cleared his throat and went into the Mom Voice, as Eren fondly called it. “Anyway, you’re going. You are going into the big wide world of adults and _socializing_.”

Doing a half-jog across the street, he hissed as cold water seeped into his shoes. “I’ll go if you and Mikasa are going,” he finally said as an ultimatum.

“Pretty sure she will. I’ll text her just in case,” Armin replied. Then the Mom Voice came back for a moment. “Now hurry _up_. You’re so late right now.”

“Like I don’t know that,” Eren snapped, but quickly dissolved into a much more fond antagonizing, “Love you, jerk.”

“Mhmm,” came the equally fond reply.

\---

As if the universe was absolutely certain Eren needed his bad day to be worse, his typically low-key and calm job suddenly transformed into a nearly uncontained flurry of activity. Exactly two minutes after he had sat down at the nursing station and started looking over patient files, a call light came on. Thankfully, Armin got up to handle it, but ran back to the station a moment later looking like every drop of blood had been drained from his face.

“She threw up...” he said quietly.

Eren could feel himself blanching as well. “H-how much?”

Armin made a strange gesture as if he were measuring something with an invisible ruler, and then shook his head slowly. “It’s everywhere.”

“Everywhere?”

“ _Everywhere_."

Eren launched out his chair like he had caught fire and raced to the room in question. He nearly slid past the door, and had to grab the doorframe to steady himself. When he peered in, he got the sudden sensation that someone had dropped a bowling ball on his stomach.

“Armin?” he managed, his voice surprisingly meek.

There was a quiet strained whine in response.

“You ever see _The Exorcist_?”

A soft hum of affirmation.

“...Should we call an exorcist right about now?”

The closest thing they had to an exorcist was Hanji Zoe, a post-grad RN who had a tendency to be a saving grace in times like these. With a noise not unlike a gag, Armin high-tailed it back to the desk to call her. Eren just continued staring in abject horror before managing to say, “Are you alright?”

Definitely not, as the woman in question stared at him for a moment before leaning over the side of her stretcher and instantly making Eren certain that they were going to need to get a _lot_ of bleach for that floor. 

It had only been a half hour since Eren had arrived, he dismally noted. Thankfully, Hanji appeared shortly after Armin called with a janitor in tow. She paused at the station where Armin was sympathetically patting Eren on the back while the latter kept the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes, hoping the phosphenes would drown out the images he had just had to take in.

“Poor babies,” Hanji said soothingly, reaching over the curve of the desk to ruffle Eren’s hair. Eren just groaned softly. “I’m guessing it was your first Code Rainbow Yawn situation.”

The name alone made Eren make a pathetic coughing noise and Armin grimace. Hanji just gave them her brightest, sunniest grin and trotted around the station to the room. All they could hear after that was, “Oh wow! You really _were_ sick, huh?”

“I don’t know how she does it,” Armin mumbled, resuming his comforting session.

“She’s not of this world,” Eren replied.

Naturally, Hanji got it sorted out in a matter of moments, and it was left to the janitor after that point. She calmly returned to the station, looking just as fine as she did when she came in. She sat down on the desk chair beside Armin and leaned back, grinning as if she hadn’t just walked in on a horror movie scene.

“Ah, to be young and feel sympathetic nausea again,” she sighed wistfully, closing her eyes. “I remember it like it was just yesterday, as a tiny little undergrad doing my rotations. You never know how much urine a human body can contain until you--”

“Uh, Hanji?” Armin interrupted, much to Eren’s relief.

She opened one eye to look at him and laughed. “Right, right. You’re still recovering. You’ll have _plenty_ of time to see how much wonderous terror the human body can create.”

Another call light came on just as she finished her sentence. Thankfully, it wasn’t the same room. Deciding that Armin definitely deserved to sit this one out, Eren got up and Armin gave him an appreciative smile.

The lady in the room had just wanted another juice box, which Eren didn’t blame her for. As far as hospital food went, University of Michigan wasn’t _too_ bad, but sometimes the options were a little limited. Sometimes the nurses just defaulted to giving the patients water, which was understandable. But something like apple juice was as good as currency at the hospital, as people would clamor for it as soon as it became an option on the menu. _Anything_ but water, especially when they weren’t allowed to have coffee or tea on the grounds of a special patient diet.

He disposed of the empty box before he walked to the floor’s pantry. After pushing aside several packets of plastic silverware, he found the juice boxes and made a mental note to talk to someone about restocking. When he walked back out into the hallway, he heard a familiar voice at the other end.

“Honestly, Hanji, you’re the most disgusting person I’ve met in my life.”

“Hi Levi!” Eren called down the hall, snickering after he heard Armin laugh.

He gave the woman her juice box, which she accepted gratefully, before he walked down to the station to see Levi, still in his suit from work and holding a briefcase.

Eren leaned over the counter, elbows on the surface, supporting his chin with his hands. “So how’d it go in the Bowels of Hell today?” he said, giving Levi the greatest snide smirk in his repertoire.

Predictably, Levi rolled his eyes. “Happily still taking the souls of the damned. How do you _think_ , brat?”

Levi was a law student, focusing on criminal appellate practice. He only had about a year left of school, and spent the rest of his time working in a small law office in Ypsilanti. As strange as the pair appeared to be, he and Hanji were roommates, along with a long-since graduated lawyer named Erwin Smith, who owned the house they rented. If Levi had the time, he would swing by the hospital to pick Hanji up. On days like this, where he obviously got off of work early, he would stay at the hospital for a moment, either to sling well-aimed insults at Hanji who had great experience in deflecting them, or picking on Eren, which seemed to be a favorite pastime. Of course, Levi made himself an easy target just by going to be a _lawyer_. The shark and demon jokes never seemed to end.

(“ _You know, when I’m assigned to you after you get your sorry ass thrown in jail_ ,” Levi once warned him. He had trailed off, eyes narrowed, and the message was extremely clear.)

Evidently, Hanji was his current target, especially when she leaned her head back and tried to balance a pencil on the bridge of her nose.

“Hey, shitface!” he said, raising his voice suddenly to startle her and cause the pencil to clatter onto the floor.

She frowned and picked it up, holding it close to her chest and pulling the most dramatic pout she possibly could conjure. “Levi! How dare you sully the honor of Ticonderoga Number Two!”

“Yeah, well how dare you sully the honor of me picking you up and hauling your lazy ass back home,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Now go clock out. I still have to make dinner.”

Hanji snorted and got up, going to do just that. Eren decided to fulfill the role of Greatest Annoyance in her absence. “Pretty domestic of you,” he said smoothly.

Levi side eyed him. “Don’t you have a bedpan that needs cleaning?” he shot back.

“Don’t you have a contract to make at a crossroads somewhere?”

Armin suddenly elbowed Eren in the ribs. “Don’t _you_ have a call light to answer to?” he asked brightly, obviously trying to break up the strange but traditional argument between them.

Indeed, it was blinking again, for the room at the farthest end of the hall. Grumbling to himself, Eren got up, turned once to not-so-subtly flip Levi off (who returned the gesture almost _elegantly_ ), and made his way down the hall. It was an old man who wanted his TV channel changed to the news, which Eren did with as much cheer as he could summon for someone who literally had the remote within reach.

After giving the man the whole ‘have a good night and call if you need anything else’ speech that was practically seared into Eren’s brain, he walked out of the room and back down the hall, just catching sight of Hanji’s enthusiastic wave as she and Levi walked out the doors. Right before he got back to the station, there was an ungodly retching from the Exorcist Room.

Armin and Eren turned to stare at each other, and Eren took the chance to voice what they were both thinking.

“Oh, _shit_.”

\---

Just as late as he had been coming to work, they were late leaving. They passed the torch of the most nauseous patient in history to two bewildered nurses starting the night shift, with Eren giving them a quick, “Good luck!” before running out the door as fast as he could, Armin not far behind.

It was almost fifteen minutes to seven, and almost as soon as they walked out the door, Eren’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t need to look to see who it was.

“Yes, Mikasa, we’re running late. I know,” he said, taking a long step over a puddle before they walked into the parking garage.

“I’m already here,” she said, voice flat and even.

“I guessed that.”

Mikasa went silent so that Eren could hear what ever sports game happened to be on in the background, and right when she went to speak again, one of the teams evidently scored. He could hear Reiner’s booming voice disagreeing with whatever had happened. “Did something happen?” she asked.

Typical Mikasa form to immediately assume that something was wrong. “No,” he sighed. “Just got busy at the hospital. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Okay,” she said, as she always did when he told her he was fine. It was uneasy, but accepting, and he could live with that.

They hung up without saying goodbye, just as he and Armin reached the car. Armin shot him a questioning look over the roof, but Eren just shook his head and opened the door.

He had helped Armin choose the car, at the time firmly believing that he and Mikasa had a say in it, as neither of them had a car of their own. He ended up getting a Chrysler 200, for two reasons. One, he could afford it, and two, to Eren’s delight, it had heated seats.

As he sat down, his teeth chattering and his feet bouncing in order to somehow summon the warmth through pure friction, he found that he had absolutely no regrets in shuffling Armin away from getting a Taurus. “ _Heated seats_ ,” he whispered, reaching over to turn his on.

“Well, you’re easy to please, at least,” Armin replied with a grin.

Their favorite bar of choice thankfully wasn’t too far from the hospital. Still, it was hard to navigate around the pedestrians, especially when some had a nasty habit of stepping out in front of cars without notice. It took a toll on brake pads, and as well on Armin’s temper. The few times Eren ever heard Armin swear were in Ann Arbor traffic.

Case in point when they were a block away from the bar and a girl stepped onto the crossing, her face ridiculously close to her book. Armin slammed on the brakes and grunted. “Get your _face_ out of your _book_ ,” he seethed, his shoulders raising.

Eren cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “That’s not gonna earn you sainthood, buddy. Looks like it’s just Saint Marco.”

“He can have it,” Armin mumbled, turning down the street.

Mack’s Bar and Grill was a pretty prime spot for most students, although it hardly had the traffic of a place like The Brown Jug or Ashley’s. On game night, it had a tendency to get ridiculously crowded, but their group of friends often opted to migrate from house to dorm and back to house to catch a game, rather than fight their way past drunken crowds. Besides, they had their own football player to cheer on.

Reiner Braun, being said football player, drew in a crowd of his own whenever he went to Mack’s. He would call someone, or send a text to someone else, and then a chain of invites would appear in the matter of an hour. The owner even once jokingly said that Reiner was their biggest selling point.

He certainly had chosen a good bar to frequent, at least by Eren’s standards. The food was good and decently priced, as were the drinks. It had a typical sports bar atmosphere, decorated floor to ceiling in various degrees of Michigan Wolverines memorabilia. One entire wall was dedicated to a gigantic painted caricature of a winking wolverine in a blue and yellow jersey, surrounded by a wreath of Sharpie signatures from everyone who had ever visited. Eren’s was somewhere near its right elbow, with a parentheses following it in Jean’s handwriting, effectively reading _Eren Jaeger (SUCKS!)_ in what was obviously a culmination of college-level maturity. Jean wisely hadn’t disclosed the location of his own signature.

After parking in the lot closest to the bar, Eren and Armin ducked under awnings from a new round of rain that was threatening to drench them. By the time they reached the front door, Eren’s hoodie proved completely futile in protecting him from the rain, so he opted to just shoulder it off as soon as he walked in, rather than letting the water soak him even further.

As usual, there was a rowdy cheer of greeting from the table in the farthest left hand corner. Being friends with one of the waitresses almost always ensured them a table, even during the busiest days. Two of the larger tables had been pushed together, eight chairs placed around one side and restaurant booth seating on the other. Reiner, as usual, was on the booth side directly in the middle so that he wouldn’t have difficulty speaking to anyone. Beside him was Bertholdt Hoover, Reiner’s roommate and best friend, who stayed quiet about as much as Reiner spoke. More often than not, Reiner would speak _for_ him, which didn’t seem to bother his roommate in the least.

On Reiner’s right was Annie Leonhart, who Eren first knew through Mikasa as they were both in a sports medicine program. It turned out that she was childhood friends with Reiner and Bertholdt, as well as a waitress at a steakhouse on Washtenaw Road near the Whole Foods, which Eren had found out on pure accident when he went there for dinner and found her staring at him before asking him in a monotone voice if he wanted fries with his burger.

Beside her, in the first set of chairs at the table were Jean and Marco. Again, knowing them was purely knowing a friend of a friend, as Eren was certain he would never come into contact with Jean on a regular basis if it wasn’t for that. With Marco, he was far more willing. The two of them were also roommates, as well as engineering students. Jean worked in maintenance at Yost Ice Arena, which effectively tained Eren’s deep love for hockey and prevented him from ever going to a Wolverines hockey game, which was an absolute shame. Marco, on the other hand, was a cashier at Whole Foods, and would sometimes buy Eren the chocolate vegan mousse he liked so much, even though he wasn’t vegan. Regardless, he was more than enough to make up for Jean, and yes, he was definitely up for sainthood.

Next to them was Connie, who was an electrical engineering student, but Eren knew him better for working at Chipotle and always bring Sasha, their usual waitress at Mack’s, leftovers. Generally, Connie would spend a good portion of his time making fun of Sasha in various ways, but always in a fond way that made everyone bet they were already married and just hadn’t told anyone yet.

Finally, there was Mikasa next to two open seats that were always saved for them. They dutifully sat down, and Sasha didn’t miss a beat in delivering Armin a glass of water and Eren a bottle of Bell’s. Eren grinned and reach over to ruffle Armin’s hair. “Such a good little designated driver,” he cooed.

Armin playfully swatted at his hand before smoothing his hair back down. Then he glanced to two empty seats beside him. “Hey, where’s Ymir and Christa?”

That earned three sets of snickers from the other end, from Reiner, Jean, and Connie respectively.

“Ymir finally got herself a date,” Connie said, trying his best to sound suave while reaching across and swiping some fries off Jean’s plate.

“Sort of,” Marco amended, rubbing the end of his nose sheepishly. “Christa had to go to IKEA for something, so Ymir offered to go with her and get dinner afterwards.”

“Psssh,” Jean excused, in turn stealing a few of Connie’s onion rings. “It’s a date. There’s no ‘sort of’ about it.”

Reiner laughed, pausing only to stare up at one of the television screens showing some NFL game. Evidently, someone missed a pass because he burst out into more laughter. “Yeah, you sons of bitches!” he cheered, and someone across the bar echoed his sentiments. Once the play was over, he returned his attention back to the table. “Well, anyway, we’re minus two right now but I guess we can fill them in later. Because I got an _awesome_ idea.”

“I can practically smell the smoke,” Jean joked.

Armin rolled his eyes and leaned forward to listen. “Go on.”

“Okay, so, my grandparents own this place up in the U.P. And I mean like _way_ up there, like snow drifts above your head and ice fishing and the whole thing. And it’s a pretty nice place. I used to spend every summer up there when I was a kid. So, I was kind of thinking about how things have kinda been around here--”

“You have no idea,” Eren muttered.

“--and I was thinking, since football season’s over by the time we get to winter break, and most of us can get some time off, what if we just went up there for a weekend or something?”

There was a round of silence, which didn’t seem to impede Reiner’s excitement.

“All of us?” Connie finally asked.

“Anyone who can make it up there!”

“...Over winter break. As in freezing. As in the _Upper Peninsula_ in winter,” Eren deadpanned.

Reiner, of course, nodded as if it was the best idea he had ever come up with. “Yeah! There’s snowmobiles up there, and the whole place is covered in trails. Lots of wildlife--”

“ _Bears_ ,” Jean interjected.

“Well, yeah, _sometimes_ ,” Reiner returned, frowning slightly. “I’ve only ever seen like... two.”

Surprisingly, it was Armin who spoke next. “Actually, I think that’s kind of a good idea,” he said. Everyone stared at him, even Mikasa who seemed to have her own doubts. He shrank a little, tucking part of himself behind Eren. “I mean, I know Eren and I can get the time off since it’s right around Christmas. And it might be good for all of us, since, you know...”

The implication was obvious. Most of the people at the table came from either some sort of troubled family situation, were having a difficulty in school or at work, or were generally under a lot of stress. In Armin’s respective case, he only had his grandfather as far as family, and was working completely off scholarships to put himself through school. It was undoubtedly exhausting.

“I agree,” Annie suddenly said, and the stares shifted to her instead. She closed her eyes and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I could definitely use a vacation.”

“I like the idea,” added Marco, and as always, he and Armin proved to be the voices of logic in their group, Christa included when she was around. “But I think we should all find out if we can afford to go, or take the time off. Plan this out, I guess.”

It was evidently satisfactory to Reiner, who grinned widely just as Sasha brought an enormous plate of cheeseburger sliders, one of which was suspiciously missing.

“Awesome,” he said, picking one of them up like he was making a toast with it. “To the U.P. and winter break.”

“And bears,” Jean added, grabbing one as well.

Eren reached across and took one too. “And freezing to death in the wilderness,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U.P. - Upper Peninsula. That bunny-shaped (or what ever shape you see it) land mass above the big mitten that is the Lower Peninsula. Covered in trees and lakes and wildlife (yes, there's bears), and during the winter, so much snow that it's ridiculous. Really popular place for vacations.
> 
> "U of M" - University of Michigan. Best way to say it is like 'youov'em" super fast. Generally refers to the school itself, the sports, the hospital (which is both a functional hospital as well as a research hospital), and everything on campus. If there's blue and gold nearby, it's U of M.
> 
> Ann Arbor - The city where the central campus of U of M is located. Almost purely a college town. Pretty upscale in some areas, very artsy.
> 
> Also, Mack's isn't (to my knowledge) a real bar and grill in Ann Arbor. I couldn't pick one in particular, so I incorporated parts of other bars and restaurants nearby to make an entirely fictional one. :D They're all kind of the same, though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first off, thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who left kudos, commented, and did all that good stuff. You're all amazing!
> 
> Second, I'm so sorry for the gap of time in between the last chapter and this one! What with the holidays and an unfortunately self-imposed schedule, I didn't get much time to actually sit down at write this. Then, once I got towards the end, it was suddenly like pulling teeth. I managed, though, and here it is! I hope you all enjoy it. ;w;
> 
> Finally, I'd like to thank my beta, Mo, for being super amazing (and my first actual beta, holy wah!) and going over it with a fine-toothed comb. :D Same goes for my secondary-beta-also-IRL-friend Sam, who helped me iron out some awkward parts and sentences and generally made it more readable. Both of them are awesome, and I can't thank them enough. uwu

The more Eren thought about it, the more he was absolutely certain that Reiner’s vacation idea came complete with a death wish. It wasn’t as if Eren hadn’t had his fair share of up north vacations. Or, really, one memorable trip to Mackinac Island when he was in high school that had ended up in a concussion courtesy of a water park slide. The more he thought about it, he slowly realized he had never actually _been_ to the Upper Peninsula. He had seen the Bridge, and pointed out the barest glimmer of lights in St. Ignace to a very bored Mikasa, but he’d never gone there. As far as his family had been concerned, there wasn’t really much to do beyond Mackinaw.

Everything else had been hearsay. He had grown up with plenty of people who had the mythical Cottage Up North, and said people also made the yearly pilgrimage there when deer hunting season opened. But Cottage stories usually included failing electricity, off-season theft, wild animals that _weren’t_ deer, and weather worthy of Revelations. Although the U.P. was usually portrayed as a beautiful, pristine wilderness, his mental picture was far more dismal.

He grimaced at the thought after dinner one night, as he viciously scrubbed at a patch of stubborn burnt-on _something_ on a cookie sheet. His hand was cramping, but as he would often say, “Never let it be said I did anything half-assed.” Doing dishes was one of those things, if he could be bothered to do it.

Armin had busied himself with cleaning out the coffee maker. He had removed the drainage piece, opening it with a slow gasp of horror. Evidently, a small bacterial culture manifesting as pale yellow circles had formed in the base, probably from never cleaning it.

“I thought coffee was non-nutritive,” Eren said, also a little horrified that they were hosting something apparently worthy of a biology lab.

“So did I,” Armin managed, quickly cranking up the hot water on the faucet and dowsing the biological nightmare with the intent to murder.

While Armin fought his valiant battle, Eren kept working at the stain on the sheet. In between applications of dish soap, he mused on the vacation, grimacing at the mere thought of houses being anything more than a mile apart.

“Do you think we should really go on this trip?” he suddenly asked, staring thoughtfully up at the dying lightbulb above the sink.

Armin made a dissatisfactory grunt before stealing the sponge away from Eren to tackle the culture. “Why wouldn’t we?” he finally replied.

“Bears, deadly weather, blackouts at the coldest time of the year? None of that sounds bad to you?”

“What it _sounds_ like is someone that’s never gone anywhere north of the Mackinac Bridge,” Armin responded smoothly, giving Eren a knowing glance.

That’s what really sucked about having Armin around; he just seemed to know _everything_. Eren let out a sigh of defeat, raking his non-soaked hand through his hair. “Well, I mean, how many people are in the U.P. in the winter? Doesn’t the population drop by like, _half_?”

“What’s the problem with that?”

“Someone could kill one us and hide the body and _no one would know_.”

Armin put the sponge down and rinsed out the drainage piece one more time before setting it on the drying rack. He reached for the dish towel on the counter next to him, drying his hands and sighing in that grandmotherly way that Eren was painfully used to. “Eren, you’re doing that thing again,” he said simply.

Eren narrowed his eyes. “What thing?”

“That thing where you exaggerate everything and then convince yourself that it’s all real?”

A pause, hardly thoughtful. “I don’t do that.”

“Remember that time when we watched Sleepy Hollow and you were completely convinced that the Headless Horseman was real? And then you started coming up with reasons why it was completely plausible that a headless man could--”  
  
Eren cut him off with a strangled sound, complete with frantically waving one hand around in a gesture that was probably intended to shut Armin up. Already, Eren was turning red all the way up to the tips of his ears. “I _get it_!” he exclaimed, flustered.

Armin just nodded with the most all-knowing air around him. “I rest my case. So, do you really think that something is going to go horribly wrong in a place that, _yes_ , does have connections to civilization?”

Cheeks still tinted pink, Eren shook his head.

“Mmhmm, and do you really think we’re going to get murdered while we’re there?”

Suddenly very interested in a grease stain on the tray, Eren shook his head again.

“There you go!” Armin said pleasantly, patting Eren on the back. “So we’re going to tell Reiner how we’re totally up for it, right?”

Eren grumbled something less than pleasant under his breath before shrugging. “Can we at least make sure that we can get that time off from work before we agree to this?”

Armin leaned over the counter, crossing his arms and resting his head on them. He rolled his eyes and grinned. “You _do_ know that Hanji and the supervisor are pretty close,” he reminded. “And Hanji’s the one who always pesters us for never taking time off.”

“But it’s so close to the holidays,” Eren retorted, although at this point, he felt like he was grasping at straws. Knowing Armin, he probably was.

“I think we’ve collectively racked up enough PTO,” came a too-smooth reply. The conversation was successfully ended, one point in Armin’s favor. Damn him for it. Right as Armin turned to walk back into the living room, he paused, glancing back at the pan. “An SOS pad would take care of that, you know.”

With that, he strolled into the living room where Eren heard him strike up a much more pleasant-sounding conversation with Mikasa.

“An SOS pad would take care of that,” Eren imitated, scrunching up his nose as he reached under the sink to fetch said pad. “I’m _soooo_ smart because I’m Armin and one of my hobbies is making people look like an _iiiiidiot_!”

Regardless, he started scrubbing at the pan, detesting how well the stains came out and how, for the millionth time, Armin was right.

\---

Fridays were glorious. They were a holy miracle sent by the heavens above in accompaniment to Saturday. Eren only had two classes in the morning, and once he finished, he had the rest of the day to himself. He didn’t have to work, didn’t have any obligations except for the occasional social one, and with funds and weather permitting, spent the rest of the day strolling around downtown Ann Arbor.

Of course, it was still freezing, and the weather report the night before forecasted snow showers later on in the evening. At the moment, the sky was cast in a flat sheet of pale gray, the cloud cover practically impermeable. Still, it hadn’t started snowing yet, but Michigan’s weather was a fickle mistress so Eren didn’t leave it up to chance. The moment he had stepped out of his physiology class, he had wrestled on his jacket and wrapped the dusky gray scarf that Christa had crocheted for him around his neck.

His choices were a little more limited today, as store-hopping didn’t seem so likely with the threat of the weather. He pondered this as he stepped outside of the building, pulling the edge of his scarf over his nose as a frigid breeze rushed by, taking a flurry of dead leaves along with it.

While he was considering, his phone vibrated twice in his pocket. Then, it vibrated again. Eren raised his eyebrows as he dug it out, swiping to the home screen. There were two messages in his inbox, both of them from Jean. That was confusing in itself, as Eren hardly remembered giving his number to Jean in the first place. Chances are, it was Marco’s doing. Regardless, he tapped the message screen and snorted at the contents.  
  
 _HOCKEY PRACTICE_  
  
END MY LIFE NOW, JAEGER. BE MERCIFUL. I CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE BODY ODOR.  
  
Eren grinned, perhaps a little sadistically, before replying.

_Are you texting me because everyone else was busy?_  
  
It was amazing the speed that Jean replied. He must have either been really frustrated or really bored, or possibly both.  
  
 _STFU AND COME KILL ME_  
  
The fact of the matter was, an associate’s degree in engineering had gotten Jean as far as working at the Yost Ice Arena. He liked his job well enough, working with valves and the cooling system, or fixing little menial problems around the rink. But the bane of his existence seemed to be the people who _actually_ used the rink. Hockey players, figure skaters, open skate. The sheer amount of times that Jean swore he would go rogue with the zamboni was worrying.

Still, it provided entertainment to anyone who knew him. Between rants at the bar and now the text messages, Eren could at least find it within himself to bask in the glory of Jean’s rink-related misery.

Like any of his replies to Jean, even in normal conversation, he was simply egging him on for more details.  
  
 _So what happened?_  
  
As soon as it was sent, Eren started walking roughly in the direction of Liberty Street. The best he could do at the moment was pick up some lunch and mull over the possibilities of what to do that day in a warm, dry area.  
  
On cue, he felt a flurry of text alerts against his hip. One, two, a short pause, and then two more. By the time he had reached the tamale place (a personal favorite of his and Mikasa’s), there was a long enough pause in messages to suggest that Jean was done for the moment. Eren took out his phone again and read through the messages, biting down on his bottom lip to fight back his laughter.  
  
 _so like i was just doing a quick light fixture job in the men’s locker room and i’m like oh yeah no big deal this should be quick  
  
IT WASN’T. IT REALLY FUCKING WASN’T OH MY GOD EREN YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I WENT THROUGH TODAY._  
  
 _like i knew there was practice! it was on the schedule and i didn’t really care._  
  
THEN I OPENED THE DOOR TO THE LOCKER ROOM AND IT WAS LIKE A WAVE OF EAU DE MANSWEAT.

There were times that Eren wanted to visit the rink for the sheer enjoyment at seeing the abject horror on Jean’s face every time an event was on his schedule. He once had the privilege of watching the glorious dynamic change in Jean’s expression at the bar once, after he had received a text message from one of his co-workers about a practice that was suddenly scheduled for the next day. It had taken some deal of consoling and Eren aspirating on a pretzel in laughter to get through the evening.

He typed back a quick: _Sorry for your loss_ , and then opened the door to the tamale place. The woman at the counter was familiar, and knew Eren’s order by heart. She grinned at him, gave him a quick thumbs up, which he gave as well. She swiftly turned around and shouted an order for six bean and cheese tamales, two of them to-go.

While he had to wait, Eren sat down at one of the tiny cafe tables. His phone vibrated in his pocket, then vibrated again. He glanced down at the screen, surprised to see a text from Jean _and_ a text from Reiner. Reiner’s appeared to be a mass text.  
  
 _nfl game tonite. party at my place?_  
  
Ah yes, the legendary Reiner Braun football parties. Since the Detroit Lions were essentially disowned by a mass part of the Michigan population, Reiner decided to adopt the Green Bay Packers as his favorite. By proxy, most of his friends did as well, and so parties at the dorm he and Bertholdt shared often were decorated and filled with a sea of green and yellow, rather than blue and silver. Eren didn’t particularly care, being more of a hockey fan himself. Regardless, he was the last person to turn down a Reiner Party.  
  
 _Will do!_ he typed back before switching to Jean’s text.

_NOT FUCKING AROUND JAEGER. COME AND END ME._

Laughing through his nose, Eren changed the screen to an outgoing text to Armin.  
  
 _You going to Reiner’s tonight?_

Armin would probably still be in class, so Eren tucked his phone away for a moment. He sat back in the diner chair, fighting against its resistance to flexibility, while eyeing up a questionable painting of a woman with enormous hands picking tulips. The nurse in him was mulling over the woman having a case of acromegaly when the woman at the counter appeared with a plastic bag tied at the top, two styrofoam containers visible through the translucent plastic.   
  
“Here you go, sir!” she said cheerfully.   
  
After paying her and leaving his customary tip (he was still bent on racking up as much good karma as he possibly could), Eren walked back out onto Liberty Street, only to feel his phone vibrate again.  
  
Armin evidently was bored enough in class to text him back. Like a high schooler, he had a habit of hiding his phone under his desk, as if anyone would care.  
  
 _I assume you want me to drive, so yes._  
  
Trust Armin to always offer to be the designated driver. Eren grinned as he slid his phone back in his pocket.

\---

West Quad was an enormous, (and if Eren had to say anything about it) rather _stately_ building. Even in the colder months, ivy was still visible on the brickwork, making the building look older. By Armin’s estimate, and affirmed with a quick Google fact check, they found out it could house nearly one thousand students. Its proximity to both the Diag and the Student Union made it a pretty popular choice in the student body, and it really wasn’t an enormous stretch for Reiner to end up in it in the first place.  
  
At present, it seemed to house a mix of athletes and art students. Yet they seemed to coexist in perfect harmony, judging by the murals in the halls of football players and a rather tasteful parody painting of an old Quaker woman in a U of M jersey. Most of the students living there that Eren had met seemed to take pride in their dorm. They even distributed end-of-the-year t-shirts, the latest edition being a black shirt with the bright green motif of two hands forming a capital W, which was the famous sign of West Quad, usually accompanied by a stage whisper of “ _Weeeessst_.”   
  
For the most part, the Quad was quiet, save for nights like this when football games were on. Reiner and Bertholdt’s dorm quickly became a raucous mess, with as many as twenty people attempting to cram in a space that clearly wasn’t meant for more than five. The room suddenly became a beacon for parties, and due to them having some pretty cool neighbors, the party often stretched into the surrounding rooms, some even scattered into the hallway.   
  
The best indicator for proximity to Reiner’s room was the sudden amount of people wearing green and yellow, intermixed with standard blue and yellow Michigan shirts. With Armin and Mikasa in tow, Eren found himself grinning when he heard a booming yell of, “What the _shit_ , ref?” and a chorus of similar loud complaints.   
  
Someone across the hall suddenly yelled, “Hey, Braun! TV’s out! What’s the score?”  
  
In response: “Six-thirteen! Green Bay’s getting their asses kicked!”  
  
“Such great communication,” Armin said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.  
  
The trio managed to edge their way into Reiner and Bertholdt’s room, although seating conditions were less than stellar. Someone had the good sense to bring in about five foldable canvas chairs, all placed in a half-circle around the TV. Reiner occupied one, an opened and probably mostly drained can of Budweiser in the cupholder by his right hand. Despite being the only other official occupant of the room, Bertholdt looked like someone had unceremoniously stuffed him into the farthest corner of his own bed. Marco at least was keeping him company.  
  
Naturally, Annie sat in another canvas chair, nursing some sort of home brew while pointedly ignoring an extremely enthusiastic boy with an unfortunate bowl-shaped haircut. As soon as she made eye contact with Mikasa, Annie all but shoved the boy out of the chair. He gaped up at her, trying to form some kind of exclamation, but she silenced him with a cold, even stare that Mikasa was probably proud of.  
  
“Conversation was over ten minutes ago,” she said in a steely voice. As he slinked back out into the hallway like some sort of strange walk of shame, Annie glanced between Mikasa and the chair, initiating one of their famous silent conversations.  
  
Mikasa nodded, then turned to Eren with the standard if-anything-happens look, which Eren waved off with a grin. “Mikasa, honestly? I don’t think anything terrible is going to happen to me in a square foot of space without you noticing,” he replied.

She rolled her eyes and sat down in the canvas chair, Annie’s form of greeting being an offered bottle of beer.   
  
Eren turned away from them to scan over the rest of the room. Free space was at a premium, with the best thing currently being Bertholdt’s bed. Eren and Armin were both good friends with Marco, so there was at least an excuse. Eren turned sideways to scoot past the throng of people that had formed in the middle of the room, sliding by them with Armin in tow.   
  
Marco took notice of them first, giving them a sunny grin. “Hey!” he greeted, followed by a weak wave from Bertholdt.   
  
“Mind if we sit here?” Armin asked, waving back. “Space seems like it’s kind of at a premium tonight.”  
  
If Bertholdt could have scooted further into the corner, he would have. Marco just pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. Eren sat beside Bertholdt, his back to the wall, while Armin sat beside Marco. The two of them often easily slipped into conversation, and even during a football game, they found something completely unrelated to talk about. From what Eren could hear, it was something about a new technological breakthrough up at the hospital and how one of Marco’s engineering professors was involved. It must have been interesting to them, but Eren found no problem tuning them out.  
  
That, of course, left him with an awkwardly silent Bertholdt. All things considered, it wasn’t _that_ strange. They had probably shared a collective thirty words in conversation in all the time they had known each other. It was certainly something else when Bertholdt had his own interpreter.  
  
“Sooo,” Eren began eloquently, half-watching the game. “You, uh... Everything going good in school?”  
  
“Huh?” Bertholdt replied, raising his eyebrows. He seemed a little stunned that someone had struck up conversation with him, but he eventually nodded, a half-grin on his face so that it seemed like he was grimacing. “Yeah, I guess so? I mean, no, that’s not a question. I’m doing fine.”

They were prematurely interrupted by one of the Packers making a mad dash toward the endzone. Naturally, Reiner jumped to his feet with his arms in the air. “C’mon, dude! Twenty yards! Te-- Oh _sweet_! Touchdown!”  
  
The room burst into a cheer, as did the room across the hall.   
  
“Kind of infectious, huh?” Bertholdt suddenly said.  
  
Eren raised his eyebrows. “What?”  
  
“Reiner.” He nodded toward the man in particular, who was doing some sort of mad victory flail that was certainly not the product of sober thinking. “He gets excited and so does everyone else. It’s how he got everyone to like the Packers. No one else on this floor liked them until he started wearing an Aaron Rodgers jersey around.”  
  
Bertholdt was right, although Eren really hadn’t thought broadly about the subject before. People seemed to naturally trust Reiner, and he hardly ever (or never, now that Eren thought about it) let them down.   
  
“How long have you been friends with him anyway?” Eren asked, now curious. Bertholdt seemed to be Reiner’s perpetual shadow. Random dorm assignment might have explained it any other time, but from paying attention to some of their conversations, they seemed to have a longer history than that. They weren’t exactly a likely pair.  
  
Another half-grin, half-grimace. “Since we were kids,” Bertholdt replied quietly, almost inaudible over the other conversations in the room.   
  
Eren waited for him to continue, but after a moment, it was evident that he wasn’t going on. Not one to let a conversation die, Eren nodded in acknowledgment. “Yeah, that’s like me and Armin. He moved two houses down from us when we were like, I dunno, five, I think? And, I mean, there’s not many kids out in the rural shitty part of Ypsilanti. Or for that matter...” Eren trailed off, grinning and trying to fight back a laugh.   
  
Bertholdt glanced up at him, now honestly curious. “What is it?”  
  
“The neighbor in between us was a stripper and the weird lady in the house behind ours got arrested for something and I think she’s serving life in prison,” Eren explained, earning a snort from Armin. He glanced over at Armin who was shaking his head. “Hey, eavesdropper!”  
  
“You mean the lady who always screamed at her cats?” Armin managed, hiding his grin behind one of his hands.  
  
“Dude, she was batshit. Don’t deny it.”

Armin finally did laugh, shaking his head. His attention went back to Marco, probably to explain the story. Eren turned to see Bertholdt with the half-mast grin.  
  
“Sounds more interesting than me and Reiner,” he said quietly.   
  
“Nah, everyone’s got weird stories,” Eren replied. “You just get a special brand of them living in a mobile home park. You have to have at least like... two.”  
  
Bertholdt made a soft coughing sound, which Eren interpreted as some sort of laugh. He stayed silent for a moment, eyes on Reiner who was currently bickering with someone over ownership of a cheese-shaped hat. “He, uh... Well, one time, I stayed the night over Reiner’s house. We were twelve, and I guess maybe I was a little sheltered growing up, because he suggested we sneak out. I freaked out, but I didn’t want Reiner to say I was too scared to do it. So we snuck out through the window in his bedroom, thinking we were so cool for it. We got about as far as the park by his house, heard police sirens and completely thought in the _ten_ minutes we were away, his parents found out and called the cops on us. So, yeah, we hauled back to his house. His parents weren’t even awake.” The story seemed to draw out some part of Bertholdt that Eren had never seen before. The half-grin on his face grew a little more earnest, and his eyes lit up.  
  
“See?” Eren replied, smiling despite himself. He nudged Bertholdt’s shoulder with his own, to which the other man ducked his head down, a sheepish smile forming. “At least when we get back from our trip, you’re going to have way more stories to tell.”  
  
Oddly enough, Bertholdt rolled his eyes at the mention of it. On top of being the most Eren had ever _heard_ from him, it was the most emotion he had seen from him as well. It was seriously a day of firsts, and possibly world records.  
  
“He won’t listen when I tell him it’s probably the worst idea he’s ever had,” Bertholdt said, shaking his head. “The electricity is touchy up there to begin with, and they had a septic tank problem two years ago. But, like _everything_ else Reiner wants, he won’t shut up about it.”  
  
“I’ll trust you on that, being the man of experience here,” Eren said wryly, simultaneously mentally stowing away what Bertholdt had just said. Up North stories also had multitudes of horrific mentions of septic tanks and the special brand of disgusting that came with owning one. Armin _couldn’t_ ignore that.  
  
Reiner let out a shout of victory from across the room, now crowned in an extremely tacky cheese wedge hat. The other man he had been battling for it with grumpily replied with, “You’re not even from Wisconsin!”  
  
“Hell no! Then I’d be a Badger and...”  
  
Armin glanced up at the strange Midwestern display, raising an eyebrow. “You know wolverines and badgers come from the same family, right?”  
  
Reiner looked positively scandalized, reeling back from Armin as if he had turned into a python.   
  
“ _That_ is the same man trying to convince me to join the basketball team,” Bertholdt added quietly.   
  
Eren gave Bertholdt his patented best wide-eyed stare, which if Armin had anything to say about it, could be frightening sometimes. “And you _didn’t_? You’re like the tallest guy I know!”  
  
“Ah, well...” Bertholdt trailed off, and in the oddly limited light of the room, Eren couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not. He was _definitely_ sweating though, as he was prone to do when even slightly anxious.   
  
Reiner and Armin essentially cut of anything Bertholdt would have said, with Armin trying in vain to explain exactly what a mustelid was, and Reiner not having any of it. Eren couldn’t help but notice the slight sway in Reiner’s posture when he jumped up. Alcohol in a quarterback’s system was dangerous.   
  
Then a referee made a call on the TV and Reiner spun around so quickly that Eren had a momentary fear that inertia would take over and he would topple over onto Annie. Although, in that case, Annie wouldn’t be the one to worry over.   
  
“It won’t be that bad,” Bertholdt said suddenly, watching the scene about as intently as Eren was. Eren looked over at him, seeing that his expression hadn’t changed. He didn’t look away from Reiner, but he raised one shoulder to indicate he knew Eren was paying attention. “Worst idea ever, yeah. But Reiner probably won’t mess it up.”  
  
“ _Probably_ ,” Eren emphasized.  
  
Bertholdt nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “He convinced me to apply here with him, even though I swore I wasn’t going to be accepted. He was right, as usual.”  
  
Eren couldn’t help but smile at that, his eyes trailing over to Armin who was gesticulating wildly to Marco about mustelids. “I know how that goes,” he replied.  
  
\---  
  
Unfortunately for Reiner, and the other hardcore Packers fans in West Quad, Green Bay lost by nearly a dozen points. Reiner was practically disconsolate, with Bertholdt sighing and shaking his head, promising Eren he would be fine in the morning. Two aspirin and a halfway decent amount of sleep was a pretty good cure, along with the horrifying possibility of what he called ‘Annie’s Hangover Cure Protein Shake’, which sounded either like a miracle or a poison. Eren left the dorm swearing up and down that he was never going to get drunk in Annie’s presence.   
  
Marco trailed behind Eren and Mikasa as they walked out to Armin’s car, still avidly discussing some strange scientific topic with Armin, who seemed completely enthralled.   
  
“So, Marco,” Eren interrupted, turning around and walking backwards to face them. “Where was Jean tonight? I thought he was like a leech when it came to you.”  
  
“Oh, he went home early today. Something about the fumes in the rink causing anoxia,” Marco replied, although he looked honestly concerned. “There’s a game tomorrow night anyway, so I think he needed to rest up for that.”  
  
Eren was pretty sure his expression lit up like a Christmas tree at that, because Armin immediately shook his head, his grandmotherly expression appearing instantly. “Oh, oh no no _no_. Eren Jaeger, you are not going to a hockey game just to antagonize him.”  
  
“That’s not fair! I love hockey as much as the next guy! Can’t I just enjoy the sport without horrible assumptions being thrown at me?” Eren exclaimed, holding his hand over his chest and feigning offense.

Mikasa suddenly grabbed his elbow and jerked him close to her. “Fire hydrant,” she said stiffly. “Stop walking backwards.”  
  
“See? Mikasa doesn’t assume terrible things about me. She cares for my well-being,” Eren said, turning around in time to dodge a parking meter.  
  
He could _feel_ Armin rolling his eyes.   
  
They walked the rest of the way in moderate silence, aside from Marco rekindling a conversation about alternate power currents or something like that, and Eren not-so-discreetly pulling out his phone to shoot a text and what he assumed was still a mourning Reiner.  
  
 _You up for a hockey game tomorrow?_  
  
There was a long pause, and Eren worried that Annie had either poisoned him already or he had just passed out. Then his screen lit up.  
  
 _reiner said yes. although if he suffocates on his own innards tonight, he might have to take a raincheck. - annie_  
  
Eren shook his head and tucked his phone back in his pocket, only to be nudged rather harshly in the ribs by Mikasa. Her glare was dangerous, but years and years of being subject to it had made Eren practically immune to its effects. “What?” he asked, innocently as possible.  
  
“You’re planning on being obnoxious,” she replied. “I’m going with you tomorrow so you don’t embarrass yourself, or the entire university. No arguments.”  
  
“I’ll behave,” he promised, batting his eyelashes at her.  
  
She responded with another bruising elbow-nudge to the ribs, almost knocking him into the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DJ's Handy Dandy Guide to Michigan - Part 2
> 
> Mackinac vs Mackinaw - Nope, that's not a spelling error up there! Mackinac and Mackinaw are the same place, essentially. It's centered around the Straits of Mackinac, the tiny strip of water in between the Upper and Lower Peninsulas. Mackinac generally refers to the strait, the tiny (and very lovely) island, and the bridge connecting the two peninsulas. Mackinaw is the city, as well as the phonetic pronunciation of Mackinac. Confusing? Yep! Blame the Europeans for not making up their minds.
> 
> "Cottage/Cabin Up North" - Generally refers to any particular vacation place in the northern part of Michigan. Plenty of people own or rent property in cottages and cabins, using them as vacation destinations, mostly for summer vacation or for hunting season. 
> 
> Ypsilanti - Pronounced 'ip-sill-antie'. A city neighboring Ann Arbor. Home to Eastern Michigan University. The border between the two cities is referred to as 'Ypsi-Arbor'. Part of it is an actual city, while the rest of it is rural.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa has a hangover, Eren and Armin cuddle over 80s movies, and there's a lot of hockey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I am so sorry this literally took months. Like, close to half a year if I'm looking at the dates right. I recently got the urge to start writing this again after messing with it to the point I was sure I wouldn't be able to go on. Nevertheless, I at least feel like I can start working on it now with a lot more fervor. Since the last chapter, I've gotten a lot of input that's definitely inspiring. ;w;
> 
> So, this chapter might seem a bit choppy, mostly because I wrote half of it a few months ago, and the rest of it within the past few days. I tried to get the halves to blend together well enough, so I hope it's not too obvious. :D Also, there's a lot of hockey terms that aren't exactly necessary to know for the sake of the story. I tried to tone it down (it was a lot more INTEEENSE before editing) but if it's either too confusing or just a big sad lump of useless words, please leave a comment so I know. uwu
> 
> But yeah, thanks to everyone again who read this fic and commented/left kudos because you're all awesome! There's going to be a time skip between this chapter and the next because I just reaaaaally want to write about their road trip. Awww yeah.

Eren found himself more grateful than usual that he hadn’t had much to drink at Reiner’s party, as he and Armin spent a better part of the next morning maneuvering around a completely unconscious Mikasa. She had picked an unfortunate location to crash, as the upper half of her body was nestled comfortably on the couch, but her lower half was sprawled out, her right leg at the perfect angle to trip anyone who dared attempt to cross the room. Waking her was out of the question, if Eren had any past experience.  
  
“I didn’t even know she was... hell, even _tipsy_ last night,” Eren marveled, stepping over her leg on his way into the kitchen.  
  
Armin followed him, pausing to gently nudge her shin with his foot. “Is she gonna be okay?”  
  
“Yeah, she’s fine. She just hibernates by way of having a hangover.”  
  
Mikasa’s temporary comatose state was actually an enormous stroke of luck by Eren’s standards, and he sent a quick mental ‘thanks’ up to the gods of alcohol that this was the case. It meant that she wasn’t going to go to the hockey game, which was the equivalent of Eren having no parental supervision. Of course, she’d be pissed at him when he got home, but he was experienced in buying her peace offerings. For someone so comparatively stoic, she was easy to amuse.   
  
As though reading Eren’s mind, Armin glanced up at him while he stood in front of the (clean!) coffee maker. “So what time are you leaving, anyway?”  
  
“Hmmm, probably around six-ish? The game starts at seven.”  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Armin gestured to the living room. “Mikasa’s going with you, right?”  
  
“Oh god, _no_. When she gets like this, she sleeps for like, a whole day. She _might_ be up by the time I get home.”  
  
“Y’know, as an aspiring medical professional, I’m inclined to say that this isn’t normal.”  
  
“It’s _Mikasa_ ,” Eren stressed.  
  
“Fair enough.”  
  
They spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon in various states of doing absolutely nothing. Armin had a TV in his room, so Eren found himself sprawled out on Armin’s bed, watching a marathon of classic 80s movies. At some point, he had gravitated to the kitchen and got a can of Pringles, and another time to go to the bathroom, but that really was it.   
  
By the time Sixteen Candles came on, Eren had his head in Armin’s lap, bemoaning the fact that he was near the bottom of the can. He stared down at the ghost of potato chips past that taunted him. “We have to go grocery shopping,” he muttered, setting the can on the end table.  
  
As Molly Ringwald was making agreements using her panties, Armin stroked Eren’s hair. “Yeah, you still owe me for buying you Pringles in the first place. I thought we agreed to start eating healthy?”  
  
Eren grinned up at him. “Potatoes are healthy,” he said.  
  
Armin rolled his eyes and carded his fingers through Eren’s hair so that the left side was sticking up. “We should go to Whole Foods next time.”  
  
“Because Marco works there?”  
  
“That too. I thought you liked the vegan mousse?”  
  
Immediately, Eren’s eyes lit up. “I _do_. And their lunch bar thingamajig is pretty great.”  
  
“You only ever get the macaroni and cheese,” Armin said as the movie broke to commercial.   
  
“And it’s good, so I have the right to say I like the lunch bar.”  
  
“How are you even _slightly_ in shape?” Armin asked.  
  
In response, Eren curved his right arm inward toward his chest in his best attempt to flex. “Bench pressing bears,” he said in an over-exaggerated Slavic accent. “Makes Eren strong like bull.”  
  
“Obviously,” Armin replied, rolling his eyes.  
  
Eren laughed and reached up, pulling down Armin’s hand so his arm loosely draped over Eren’s chest. He began running his fingers over the bones in Armin’s wrist. “Hey, I’m training to protect you from the perils of the wilderness. Give me some credit.”  
  
Armin sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the crown of Eren’s head. “You’re ridiculous.”  
  
“Yep, and you love it.”  
  
Another sigh, but he could feel Armin shake with laughter. “Yeah,” Armin replied. “Best part about you.”  
  
They sat in silence for awhile as the commercials went on, eventually returning to the movie. Still tracing bones and tendons and mentally assigning them medical labels, Eren tilted his head upward. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”  
  
Armin didn’t move but hummed in acknowledgement.   
  
“Like, okay, I know we still have a few years until we’re all done with college and all that, but I’ve been doing that five year plan whatever-it-is. Everyone does that.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“And I was thinking, like... Okay, remember how back in high school, I had this whole thing where I wanted to be in the NHL and I was super hyped about getting a scholarship and everything?”  
  
“Mhmm.”  
  
Eren stared up at the ceiling and sighed. “And yeah, I didn’t get it, and I’m definitely not cut out to be in the NHL. I’d get run over,” he said. “So I’ve kind of learned to not make my plans so set in stone, otherwise I’d get disappointed. _But_ , I was thinking about this plan, even though I keep telling myself not to make any, and I was kind of wondering...” He trailed off, suddenly redirecting his stare at the TV like it sucked in all of his attention.  
  
Armin sat up to look at him before he reached back up and started stroking his hair again. “You were wondering...?”  
  
“If, um...” Armin couldn’t miss Eren’s cheeks turning a touch too red. “Well, what’s your plan?”  
  
“Mine?”  
  
Eren nodded.  
  
“Well,” he started, looking up with a thoughtful expression. “I guess it’s pretty standard. Finish up my bachelor’s degree and start working on my master’s? Get a full time job in the hospital. I don’t really know. I haven’t thought five years ahead in detail.”  
  
Eren sighed again, but it was hard to tell if it was either a sign of relief or defeat. For some reason, Armin thought it might have been a mix of both. He stroked some of Eren’s hair away from his forehead before kissing it, leaning back, and asking, “Why did you want to know?”  
  
“It’s just that...” he trailed off again, and it wasn’t hard to see how unsure he was. “Like, this is really all up to you because you know me well enough to know that I would probably lose my head if it wasn’t attached.”  
  
Armin shook his head and kissed Eren’s forehead again. “Out with it, Jaeger,” he commanded with a grin.  
  
“Sorry, lieutenant,” Eren joked back. Then, he settled against Armin. “I was thinking eventually we could get a house together. I mean, bigger than this one. Not on campus or anything but a legit _house_.”  
  
There was a beat of silence where Armin had to review what Eren had said several times over in his brain. He could feel Eren shift uneasily before he realized he had been quiet just a _second_ too long. Armin knew Eren well enough to know that he had a tendency to backpedal when he felt like he had either said too much or said the wrong thing. Sometimes it was done up to a comedic effect, but Armin knew that with something of that sort of magnitude, Eren would completely undo everything he had just said.  
  
“Yeah,” Armin said before Eren could even take in a breath to speak.   
  
He felt Eren tense up before glancing up at Armin with an expression of bafflement. “What?”  
  
“I said, ‘ _yeah’_ ,” he stressed, but smiled while saying it. “I don’t see why we couldn’t. You’re already a pretty good roommate.”  
  
“And I’m your boyfriend,” Eren added, a grin already growing on his face.  
  
Armin laughed before ruffling Eren’s hair. “Oh gosh, yeah. Please remind me since you know I’m so prone to forgetting.”  
  
“Well, hey, you talk like an old man sometimes,” Eren replied, reaching up and pulling Armin down for a Spiderman-level upside-down kiss.   
  
After they broke away, Armin shifted his position so he was laying down next to Eren, pulling a few pillows over to prop himself up. He settled against Eren, watching the movie with only half-interest at that point. “We’ll talk about it when we get back from the U.P., okay?” he said, tracing the line of Eren’s shirt collar.  
  
“Sure thing,” Eren replied, leaning over to plant what may have been the cheesiest tip-of-the-nose kiss in the world.   
  
“You’re acting like a blushing bride,” Armin cooed, only to have Eren gently nudge him in the side.  
  
“Close enough,” he said.  
  
\---  
  
After all the cuddling and the movie marathon, six o’clock rolled around much faster than Eren would have liked. Reiner sent him a text at five-thirty saying he was about to leave, and then sent a picture of him in a bright yellow ( _maize_ , Eren corrected) hockey jersey giving a thumbs up. At that, Eren untangled himself from his dozing boyfriend to shuffle back into his own room and dig through his closet for something wearable.  
  
Unfortunately, due to certain people working in the place where he could have bought a Wolverines jersey, Eren had to settle for a maize t-shirt with MICHIGAN printed in dark blue down the side of it. He threw on an old pair of jeans and a plain blue jacket before quietly making his way back out to the living room to wait for Reiner.  
  
Mikasa had since changed position, and according to the state of the coffee table, had had breakfast at some point. Eren cringed at the sight of three different cereal bowls stacked on top of each other. One quick check at the clock allowed him enough time to transport the bowls to the kitchen and soak them in soapy water, probably for Armin to wash later. He wiped his hands off just as his phone buzzed.   
  
_Here!  
  
_ Eren tucked his phone back in his jeans and wiped his damp hands on his jacket before tugging on his shoes and stepping out onto the porch. He snorted at the sight of the dark green 2002 Honda Accord in his driveway. He opened the passenger door and was greeted to a very rousing and decibel-shattering chorus of _We Are the Champions_ as he slid inside.  
  
“Hey, Jaeger!” Reiner greeted cordially, turning down the music just a fraction so that he could be heard over it.  
  
“Howdy,” Eren replied as he buckled himself in. He raised an eyebrow and grinned at the dashboard. “How come you’re driving The Turtle?”  
  
Reiner only looked slightly sheepish as he put the car in reverse. “My car _might_ have a transmission problem. Bert didn’t want me to destroy it in the name of hockey, so he let me borrow the car.”  
  
“What’s the matter with it?”  
  
“Oh, sometimes you’ll be driving and it’ll suddenly feel like--” He slammed on the brakes hard enough to make Eren nearly get choked out by the seatbelt. Eren wheezed as they continued down the street. “Yeah, just like that,” Reiner said.  
  
“That sounds... deadly,” Eren replied, a little to weakly for his liking.  
  
“Yeah, but hey, The Turtle hasn’t let us down yet!”  
  
He wasn’t wrong. Bertholdt’s car had become something of a legend among their group. It was the oldest car among them, painted a sad shade of forest green with a tape deck that no one had bothered to replace. However, the thing hadn’t had a single malfunction. Even Marco’s Jeep Rubicon had to go into the shop for a steering column issue. The Turtle was touted as invincible, and it was yet to prove anyone wrong.   
  
They continued blasting Queen all the way to Yost, Reiner singing along in his best slightly off-key ballad voice. Eren sang along to _We Will Rock You_ , but paused to take out his phone. “I still need to text Jean,” he said cheerfully.  
  
Beside him, Reiner grinned. “Tell him I said hi.”  
  
 _Hey horse-face! Reiner and I are coming to the game. Come say hi!  
  
_ There wasn’t even a minute before Jean texted back.  
  
 _NO. NO FUCK YOU GUYS YOU’RE LYING._  
  
“Aw, we’re going to have to take a selfie to prove it,” Eren said solemnly, shaking his head as he pulled up the camera. He flipped the camera off while doing his best shit-eating grin while Reiner got enough time at a red light to give the camera another thumbs up. Afterwards, Eren looked at the photo with admiration. “Beautiful.”  
  
He sent it and waited with excitement. He didn’t have to wait long before his phone buzzed again.  
  
 _FUCK YOU I HATE YOU GUYS  
  
_ “He liked it,” Eren said pleasantly before putting his phone away again.  
  
“I bet,” Reiner replied with a smirk.  
  
It took the entirety of _Bohemian Rhapsody_ (in which Eren did a pretty astounding falsetto) for them to finally get to the rink. Naturally, the parking lot was packed to a maddening degree, leaving Reiner to slowly drive up and down the lot like a vulture, uttering curses under his breath the entire time.  
  
“I swear, the Big House isn’t even this bad,” he muttered.  
  
Eren cleared his throat before looking up at the roof of the car and spreading his hands out, palms facing upward. “O, Ye Great Gods of U of M Parking,” he intoned. “Please bequeath us, mostly Reiner the Most Deserving Quarterback, with a prime parking spot. Amen.”  
  
Reiner snorted as he turned into the next lane. “Amen,” he repeated.  
  
Evidently, the Parking Gods heard Eren’s prayer, as there was a tiny spot in between an old Corvette and a minivan. The van had parked too close to the line, and if either Eren or Reiner had been in their normal state, they would have forgone the spot entirely. However, Reiner grinned like a madman at the sight. “I’m goin’ for it,” he said, just as another car turned into the same lane on the opposite side. Reiner gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Nope! No, fuck you, Mister Compact Sedan! This is _mine_.”  
  
It was a turn worthy of Formula One, but Reiner managed to get The Turtle into the spot with great delicacy. There was barely a foot of space between the passenger door and the minivan, but Eren cheered regardless. “I’m gonna have to go all Alex Mack to get out of here, but _worth it_ ,” he said happily.   
  
He did have to squeeze out of the door, but he managed, and before long, the two of them stepped through the doors of Yost Ice Arena.  
  
They were met with thunderous music with the bass so high that it was hard to distinguish what song was actually playing. The game wasn’t set to start for awhile yet but the crowd was already cheering. There was a myriad of smells wafting through the air, ranging from the greasy diner smell of french fries and hamburgers to the sugar-cinnamon combo of a BeaverTail, Eren’s personal favorite. Reiner diverted from him just long enough to brandish some season tickets at the booth before rejoining Eren with a wide grin on his face.  
  
“Concessions?”  
  
Eren grinned. “Absolutely.”  
  
They wound their way through a sea of maize and blue, with only a few points of bright crimson and gold from lost-looking Ferris State fans. Eren raised an eyebrow at them. “Ferris? Really?”  
  
“Hey, if it was Ohio State or MSU, we wouldn’t have been able to get in on short notice,” Reiner said as they stood in line at the concession stand. “Ferris hasn’t done too bad this year, either.”  
  
“Huh. I haven’t really been keeping track.”  
  
“Yeah, Bulldogs pretty much wiped out Western last month. Everyone was talking about it.”  
  
Eren fixed Reiner with an amused stare. “When you say _everyone_ , are we talking like _your_ kind of everyone, or _my_ kind? There’s kind of a difference.”  
  
Reiner blinked once, twice, before laughing and scratching at the back of his neck. “Okay, yeah, it was jock talk,” he replied. “Kinda have to keep tabs on that kind of thing. Besides, Wagner’s on our team, remember?”  
  
“Yeah, but I don’t know him that well,” Eren reminded. “I’ve only seen him on the school website for the roster.”  
  
Reiner barked out a laugh before putting an arm around Eren’s shoulders in a too-strong grip. “Jaeger, we gotta get you on a team. You’re missing out on everything!”  
  
“We have a Quidditch team, right?” Eren deadpanned.  
  
It took Reiner a few seconds before he burst out into laughter so loud that a few people turned to stare at him.   
  
Eventually they got their respective food-and-drink combos, Eren’s consisting of a paper tray full of chili cheese fries that were definitely going to give him heartburn later, as well as a gigantic cup of Mountain Dew. Reiner, predictably, got way more than the average person would ever consume, with two hot dogs (one covered in alarmingly bright red chili), fries, a giant pretzel, and the biggest container of Pepsi Eren had ever seen.   
  
“Aw yeah, I am _so_ set until intermission,” Reiner cheered. “Then it’s BeaverTails all the way to the end.”  
  
“How are you not dead?”  
  
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll work it all off at the gym tomorrow,” Reiner replied like it was just that simple. Eren grimaced at the thought. If he ate that amount, he would have to sleep in the bathroom.  
  
They went up into the student section, thankfully on the opposite side of the band so their hearing wouldn’t be shot by the time they left.   
  
Reiner didn’t waste any time on his food. By the time Eren had adjusted himself enough that he could put his chili cheese fries on his lap so they wouldn’t tilt over, Reiner had already eaten half of one of his hot dogs, and looked immensely pleased with himself for it. Eren blinked, astounded, before carefully picking out one fry and trying not to get nacho cheese all over himself.  
  
“So,” Reiner started after wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “You get the time off yet?”  
  
Eren swallowed his fry before looking up at Reiner. “Huh?”  
  
“For the trip. Did you and Armin get that time off?”  
  
Eren was afraid he was going to try to start a conversation about the trip. He looked down at his fries before shrugging. “I don’t know yet. Armin was going to be the one to ask since he knows our supervisor better than I do. I mean, the hospital’s lenient with students, and we haven’t really taken any PTO unless we’ve been sick, so...”  
  
It must have been as good as a ‘yes’ to Reiner, as he grinned and thumped one (ketchup-flecked) hand on Eren’s back. “Awesome! I already talked to my grandparents about it and they said it’s fine. So, we’re pretty much set!”  
  
“Yeah,” Eren said, his voice sounding a little thin even to himself. “Awesome.”  
  
He carefully picked through a few more of his fries before the game began. Reiner, on the other hand, had inhaled both hot dogs in record time, and was already going through his fries at a rate that made Eren question if he could even taste them. A few minutes before the game started, Eren’s phone went off once, then again. He pulled it out to see one message from Armin and another from Jean.  
  
From Armin: _You behaving? ;)  
  
_ Eren smiled and sent back a: _Yes mother._  
  
Then from Jean: _i dont know what you and braun are up to but fuck you ahead of time  
  
_ The response: _You’re so nice Jean :D_  
  
Just after he had sent the message, a bass-heavy techno beat began and the announcer cheered over the loudspeaker.   
  
“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for your Michigan Wolverines!”  
  
The crowd erupted into a roar of excitement, and the student section alone hit a decibel Eren figured had to be recorded to be believed. A line of hockey players dressed in yellow jerseys skated out onto the ice. Every helmet had three bright yellow vertical slashes, essentially the symbol of any U of M sport. Even Reiner’s helmet had the marks.   
  
Ferris’ team was announced with much less fanfare, and any cheering was quickly drowned out by a loud chorus of boo’s and a few declarations of, “You suck!” Soon, there was a lineup on both sides of the rink, opposing lines of dark blue and bright red.   
  
The band started up just as the announcer requested that everyone would stand and remove their hats for the national anthem. It drawled on until the end, when it filtered off into a growing cacophony of cheers and applause. The players put their helmets back on and began circling the ice, some going into their respective teams’ boxes. The goalies went to their ends, with Michigan’s starting on the far left from the student section.  
  
Reiner resumed eating his fries while glancing over the players like a talent scout. He gestured to one in particular. “Number forty. That’s Wagner,” he said. “Really good defense.”  
  
Eren watched as Thomas Wagner took his position at center ice. The captain skated in front of him, his stick lined up parallel to Ferris’ captain. “And who’s that?” he asked, gesturing to them.  
  
“Oh, the captain? Ian Dietrich. Senior. He’s also racked up the most penalty time of anyone on the team,” Reiner responded cheerfully. “He’s pretty brutal when he wants to be, but he plays smart, and that’s what matters.”  
  
The referee dropped the puck between the two captains and Eren remembered exactly why brutality was a necessary trait. Unlike the NHL, college hockey boiled down to how fast you could get the puck away from the opponent, and how hard you might have to push someone to get it. The referees could be hawk-like, but not as harsh as the nationals.   
  
The game quickly escalated into something a little more similar to a battle. For the first fifteen minutes, it just seemed like a no-holds-barred match of checking into boards and just missing the line between a legal move and something that would earn a place in the penalty box. Shortly after that, someone from U of M hooked their stick around the ankle of a Ferris player, sending them sprawling onto the ice. The referee blew the whistle, making the gesture for tripping, and then ‘two minutes’. Despite it being a clear penalty, the student section booed the call.   
  
After that, the game resumed at peak harshness. When the first Ferris player got a penalty for high-sticking, suddenly the game got far more interesting. The referee made the call, and as the skater began slowly making his way to the penalty box, the crowd started a drawl of, “ _Ohhhh..._ ” that only got louder and louder the closer he got to the box, with the crowd all waving their right hands When he opened the door and stepped in, the crowd cheered a loud, “ _SEE YA!_ ” Even Reiner was cheering along. Then the band suddenly started just as the crowd began chanting something that Eren could barely make out, and Reiner laughed.  
  
“They have to play to cover up when people start swearing. It used to be pretty bad,” he said with a smirk. “Just wait until Michigan actually scores.”  
  
Five minutes before the first period ended, they did. It was on a breakaway that was so intense that it had everyone in the rink on their feet. One of the forwards managed to get the puck in the net and the entire arena seemed to burst into the loudest cheer they could manage.  
  
Beside Eren, Reiner raised his right hand, his index finger extended. Around him, everyone else began to do the same thing. Once the announcer went over the details of the play, there was a short lull before the crowd collectively went, “ _Ready?_ ” They all pumped their fists once while going, “ _One! We want... mooooore goals!_ ”   
  
At least the next part, Eren could remember. Everyone pointed to Ferris’ goalie who suddenly seemed to be very interested in his water bottle. “ _Sieve! Sieve! Sieve! Sieve! Sieve! Sieve! It’s all your fault! It’s all your fault! It’s all your fault! It’s all your fault!_ ”  
  
Somewhere above them in the student section, someone brought out a cowbell and everyone followed the rhythm by regularly cheering, “ _GO BLUE!_ ”  
  
The rest of the game went relatively the same way. Ferris scored once which was meant with enormous disapproval. One memorable thing was when the Ferris goalie took his helmet off to get a drink and the crowd began a slow and steady chant of, “ _Ugly goalie!_ ” until he put his helmet back on.  
  
Eren turned to Reiner at that. “What happens if Michigan’s goalie takes his helmet off?”  
  
“Then it’s ‘handsome goalie’,” Reiner answered. “Sometimes we compliment his mom.”  
  
It was tied by the time the intermission came after the second period. Both Eren and Reiner got up and stretched, and then exchanged the same look.  
  
“BeaverTail?” Reiner asked.  
  
“Hell _yes_.”  
  
BeaverTails were a gift sent from heaven, or Canada if Eren remembered right. It was an enormous piece of some kind of elephant ear pastry, slathered in butter and cinnamon sugar. It had to be one of the more unhealthy things he’d ever eaten in his life, but even someone as health conscious as Armin couldn’t turn them down. It would be like turning down ambrosia.  
  
After Eren bought his, he picked at it and hissed when it was still too hot to eat. Reiner, on the other hand, summoned some freakish superhuman ability to eat his despite its molten temperature.   
  
“Best thing ever,” he said, a small cloud of powdered sugar puffing out of his mouth. He then turned and looked at the BeaverTail stand. “D’you think we should buy Jean one?”  
  
Eren looked at another stand and grinned. “I have a better idea.”  
  
\---  
  
Michigan ended up winning four to one, and the excitement was just as contagious from a moment it was obvious that they had won all the way to when Reiner was driving Eren back home.   
  
“But that was such an amazing shot!” Eren enthused, backed up by an instrumental version of ‘Hail to the Victors’ on Reiner’s iPod. “Like, holy _shit_ , footwork much?”  
  
“No kidding!” Reiner replied, tapping on the steering wheel. “And that last assist!”  
  
“ _Classic_ ,” Eren stressed, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning widely. “Couldn’t have done it better.”  
  
“Dude, when we’re up in the U.P., we should play out on the lake. We’ve got some old equipment in the garage if you’re up for it!”  
  
Eren frowned and blinked. “Like, actual _ice_ hockey?”  
  
“Yep!”  
  
“I haven’t... well, yeah, I’ve never played on a lake before.”  
  
Reiner smiled broadly as his iPod switched to a choral version of the same fight song. “It’s great, man! Kinda brings you back to hockey’s roots, y’know? And Armin said you were awesome at hockey back in high school. When was the last time you played?”  
  
“...High school,” Eren replied, feeling sheepish.  
  
“Aww, c’mon Jaeger, that’s nothing to be ashamed of! Spread your wings a little!”  
  
Before Eren could say anything, his phone buzzed against his hip. He pulled it out to see that it was a picture message from Jean, and immediately Eren’s frown turned into a mischievous smile. The picture was of Jean’s hand flipping off a container of salad, a note in the corner reading: ‘ _To Horseface, They were all out of oats but there was lots of carrots and lettuce left! Stay healthy!_ ’  
  
“I take he it he liked his present?” Reiner asked, snorting after he said it.  
  
“Well hey, I had it specially delivered! He should appreciate my efforts,” Eren replied, resting his phone on his lap.  
  
“Can’t wait to see how you two act up at the cabin.”  
  
Eren suppressed a wince, but forced a smile regardless. “Armin and Mikasa probably won’t let me get away with too much. I don’t think you have to worry.”  
  
“Worry?” Reiner remarked. He shook his head and laughed again. “Nah man, I’m excited. The great outdoors, winter in the wilderness, and everyone crammed into a cabin. It’s gonna be interesting, y’know?”  
  
“Oh, I can guess,” Eren said, trying to keep the sullenness out of his voice. “Do you always go up there in the winter?”  
  
Reiner shook his head again. “Not as much as we used to. My grandparents are a little too old to go up there more than once a year, but my uncle sometimes goes up for snowmobiling. Really awesome trails and all that. Actually, the back of our property is right up against one of the biggest snowmobile trails in the region. Cool, huh?”  
  
“Yeah,” Eren replied, although he didn’t know the first thing about snowmobiling. He hadn’t been outside of Ypsilanti very much, let alone anywhere rugged enough where snowmobiling was an option.   
  
“Anyway, it’s more of a summer place. Lots of recreation because of the lakes and all that. I mean, not to say there’s not a lot to do in the winter, but most of the time it’s just relaxing to get away and not do _anything_. You know what I mean?”  
  
“I... think so?”  
  
At that, Reiner let out a thoughtful hum, like he had just realized something. “You haven’t left this area much, have you?”  
  
“I’ve, uh, been to Mackinaw?”   
  
“Oh, then this is _really_ gonna be good.”


End file.
